


Finally Free

by mishaminion69, sydkn3e



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Canon Rewrite, F/M, Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Newly Human Castiel (Supernatural), Post-Canon Fix-It, and finally the return of the interrupting moose, free fucking will, the choice dean never got to make, the human cas finally got to love, the words dean never got to say, tons of implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27725518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishaminion69/pseuds/mishaminion69, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sydkn3e/pseuds/sydkn3e
Summary: So anyway funny how season 15 ended on episode 18, right? Since they never got back to film after COVID Lauren and I just went ahead and wrote the end of the series. You're welcome.(Actually picks up close to the beginning of ep19 in canon, but takes a hard left turn onto a road closer resembling the story they were telling through ep18- after Dean gets Miracle cuddles)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 52
Kudos: 343
Collections: SPN Finale "Destiel is CANON" Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm mad busy rn so this is unbeta'd but here's the start-
> 
> More (happier) to come later today, as a Thanksgiving treat!

The first thing Dean did with freedom was sleep. It turned out facing down The Almighty and fixing the world really took it out of a guy. 

He and Sam had driven back to the bunker in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. And really, what did one talk about after all that? They had finally won. They beat fate, they beat _God,_ and they were-for the first time-in charge of their own lives. Dean drove, wondering if all the ones they had lost along the way made the victory worth it. What was life and freedom without the ones you loved by your side anyway?

So he slept, mostly to keep the thoughts at bay. Sure, he was bone-deep exhausted, but that was his perpetual state of being. Running on an empty tank was part of the job.

The job. Dean thought about that too. Once he couldn’t sleep anymore. Once he couldn’t _force_ himself to sleep anymore. He lay in bed, staring at the guns on his wall, and wondered if he wanted this job anymore. If he needed it still. It was strange, an odd feeling, because he never thought he’d get this far. He always, _always_ , assumed-knew-that he’d die hunting. Guns blazing, facing the next big bad. 

Dean realized this bone-deep exhaustion may be something else entirely. He was tired of it. He’d had his childhood, his family, his friends, taken from him because of this job. He’d save the world dozens of times and he found himself thinking he was...done. And why not? Dean felt pretty confident he’d earned some retirement. Some R&R. And he was tired of losing people. Jack had brought everyone back and Dean wanted to keep it that way.

Well, almost everyone.

And maybe that was the crux of it. Maybe losing Cas was the last straw to break, the last fuck to give. The real reason for his exhaustion. It wasn’t his body. It was his heart, his soul. Those last moments with Cas, those words that still echo in his head on repeat that no amount of loud music could down out, they had finally shattered something in Dean that had already been fragile to begin with. 

Dean never really imagined much what the end of his hunting career would be like, but when he did it wasn’t this. Not lying on a bed, deep in a secret bunker, staring at a wall as he quietly let go of that part of his life.

Which left the question: What did one do with freedom?

~*~

It was the first time he’d set an alarm in weeks.

Not because he had anything to do- quite the opposite, in fact- but because it was about time he tried to do _something..._ he felt he owed Cas that. What was the point of his sacrifice if all he did was lay around a dark bunker, passing his brother in the hallway and trading unenthusiastic grunts. He avoided Sam altogether when Eileen visited the bunker, but thankfully both of them seemed to understand. Sam- bless him- definitely knew there was more to the story than what Dean had told him, but he didn’t pry. Mentioning Cas was off limits, at least for now, and he knew that too. Their breakfast conversations were usually the most talking they did to one another all day, Dean trying, trying his best every single day...for himself, for Sam. If he tried hard enough, he’d get there eventually. He’d be happy, he’d love again, he’d be the man Cas wanted him to be. The man Cas loved.

Dean slapped a hand over the alarm to silence the shrill beeping. He sat up and sniffed, pressing the heel of his hand to one of his eyes. It only took another second or two before the tan blur shot up onto the bed and into Dean’s arms, and he folded Miracle into them, smiling into her fur. He inhaled deeply; the scent of dog was laced heavily with an earthy must, so Sam had already let her out that morning. He squeezed her tighter and tousled the fur on the top of her head as he got up and she hopped down, dancing excitedly in front of him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take you for a ride later,” Dean muttered grumpily, despite the fact that he’d come to enjoy Miracle’s company on his Baby joyrides. She was quiet, and she just enjoyed being in his presence. There was something comforting in that.

Dean threw on his robe and made his way down the hall, the dog dashing out in front of him and rounding the corner on her way to the kitchen. The smell of coffee and bacon hit him about halfway there, and he could faintly hear Sam murmuring over the sizzling of bacon grease.

“Hey, mornin’,” Sam said as he moved bacon onto a plate on the island and slid it over.

“Mornin’,” Dean replied, immediately making his way to the coffee. He steadied himself on the counter as he poured himself a mug, then took a long, slurping sip before grabbing his plate and moving to the table.

“Eileen and I will be heading out soon,” Sam said as he turned to slide some eggs onto Dean’s plate. “Couple of hunters came across a nest and they need some help taking it out.”

Dean frowned up at his brother, fork of eggs halfway to his mouth. “A nest, Sam? Don’t you think-”

“It’s fine, Dean,” Sam shrugged, sitting down to a bowl of parfait. “Honestly, I’d rather go help then sit and wonder if they made it out okay, you know? Four hunters is better than two. Besides, it’s not exactly my first nest.”

Dean sighed and shoved the eggs into his mouth. “Fine. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

Sam snorted and they ate silence for a few minutes, nothing but the sounds of utensils clanking against porcelain. Dean felt Sam’s eyes on him but ignored the stare, crunching down on his bacon. He glanced at the clock, counting the seconds.

3…

Sam shifted in his seat.

2…

He put down his spoon.

1…

“Dean,” he said, clearing his throat. Dean inwardly smirked but kept his face straight as he grunted in acknowledgment.

“You could, you know, come with us,” Sam said carefully, looking at Dean like he was about to break any moment. “On the hunt. Might be good for you.”

“Might be good for me to go chop off some heads?” Dean grumbled.

“Well, I...yeah,” Sam shrugged, his leg bouncing underneath the table. “It could take your mind off things.”

“What things?” 

Sam pressed his lips together and gave Dean a look that sent off all sorts of warning bells. It was a look that meant he was about to say something that was probably going to hit some emotional button and therefore piss Dean off.

“Look…”

Yep. 

“I know this has been hard on you,” Sam leaned forward and took a breath. “Losing Cas was-”

“I’m gonna have you stop right there, Sammy,” Dean held up a hand, giving his brother a hard look. “I really don’t wanna fight right now, okay?”

“This isn’t a fight,” Sam said slowly. “Dean, I’m just...worried. I know it hurt to lose him. It hurt me too, but-”

“No,” Dean shook his head, voice going rough. “No, Sam. It did not just... _hurt_. You don’t...you weren’t there.”

“Then tell me,” Sam looked at him with those stupid puppy dog eyes, all understanding and supportive. God, Dean hated that. “I know something happened that you haven’t told me. Tell me why-”

“He loved me.”

Sam paused and frowned. “Well, yeah, Dean...he loved all of us.”

Dean closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, his heart in his throat. “No, Sammy. He...he _loved_ me. He told me before...that thing took him. H-he said...that he loved me.”

Sam was quiet again for another moment. “As in-?”

“Yeah.” 

He sat back in his chair, letting his spoon sink down into oat-sprinkled yogurt. “Dean, that’s...I’m…”

“Don’t,” Dean shook his head, staring down at his mug. “I know you are. I do.”

The silence that followed was somehow worse than the silence that had stretched between them since that day...now that it was all there, out in the open. Now that Sam knew the real reason he could barely bring himself to get out of bed each day.

“Dean,” Sam finally said, softly, and something about it kept Dean from interrupting him, even knowing what was coming next. “Did...you..?”

Dean let the question hang in the air, and Sam didn’t bother to finish it. Dean dragged his top teeth across his bottom lip and nodded absently, his eyes never leaving the mug as he tapped a finger against it. 

“‘Course I did,” Dean murmured finally, still not meeting his brother’s eyes. “But I never…” The lump started to rise in his throat again, for the first time in days, and he swallowed it down with a shake of his head. 

“We can bring him back, Dean. We can find a way.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dean finally looked up at him. “How? Jack’s off grid. Has he answered any of your prayers? ‘Cause he sure as hell won’t answer mine.”

“I’m sure he’s been busy trying to rebuild-”

“And I’ve searched, searched the entire library, the archives, for anything, _anything_ that can bring him back, anything that I can do. There’s nothing, Sam. I can’t _do_ anything.”

Several minutes of silence followed and Dean went back to drinking his coffee. Sam didn’t move, his spoon still stuck in his parfait. Miracle whined at his feet, looking up back and forth between the two of them, undoubtedly waiting for any scraps that may be tossed her way. Dean tried not to think about the last time he and Cas actually shared that very table, Cas simply sitting quietly by his side as Dean downed his third glass of whiskey, only hours since their last trip to Purgatory. It was the same night he’d nearly told Cas how he felt himself, if it hadn’t been for Cas stopping him...and now, it made all the sense in the world why he did. And yet somehow, it made it worse knowing that on some level, Cas was probably aware of how Dean felt. 

Dean closed his eyes and sighed softly, pressing his lips together. How hadn’t he seen it then? Cas sacrificed himself for Dean so often it may as well have just been another Thursday for him, and he’d never given it a second thought. There was never another option. He’d always save Dean, no matter the cost. As if his life was inconsequential compared to Dean’s.

Cas had made sure that Dean knew his life meant something in his last moments. And Dean couldn’t even let him know the same. He barely said _a word._

“Eileen and I will see what we can find,” Sam said finally, firmly, and before Dean had the chance to respond, he stood up and left the kitchen, taking his parfait with him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the fun stuff! Fluff and smut =)
> 
> Again, unbeta'd.

Freedom got kind of boring.

While his heart wasn’t in hunting anymore, Dean was still restless. He felt the need to  _ do _ and after a while it was a feeling he couldn’t ignore anymore. Besides, Cas didn’t give his life for Dean to be a couch potato. 

Sam was supportive and helped him build a resume. Sure, most of the information on there was fake, but believable. Landing something was actually pretty easy. Given his skills and knowledge with cars, Dean got himself a part-time gig at a local garage. The owner agreed to pay cash with no questions asked, desperate for reliable help.

Dean enjoyed the work. He had always liked working with his hands, getting deep into an engine, covered in grease and sweat. And more importantly, it made the time fly and kept his mind silent.

Unfortunately, with the job only being part-time, it still left Dean with too many waking hours. Those times were hard enough, but when Sam and Eileen were gone and the bunker was empty, it was nearly unbearable. So on one of those nights, after Dean had left work for the day, he took Baby out for a drive. Back roads were his favorite. He could open her up, let her roar as she ate up the miles. He drove until the moon was high and pulled over to the side of the road. 

He was way out in the middle of bum fuck nowhere. It was dark, the stars shining, the air slightly cold. He was in a hilly area, parked right on the edge and high enough to see the town below. Dean slid onto the hood of the Impala, laying out on his back and pillowing his head on his arms. He stared up at the night sky and Cas came to mind almost immediately. Instead of pushing it away, though, Dean let the thoughts and memories come. 

“Cas…” he murmured, his eyes tracing the stars. He wondered how many of those stars Cas had seen. Maybe even helped make. The thought was bizarre. “You probably can’t hear me and...I haven’t prayed in a long time. But I just have to tell you that I’m...I’m so sorry, Cas. I let you down. I hate that you died not hearing...thinking that I didn’t care about you, because I did. I do. And I’m sorry that it’s too late now and I’m sorry I let that thing take you.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, feeling the annoying sting of tears. “I’ve realized now how much time I’ve wasted. How cowardly I was. Of all people I should know how quickly you can lose someone. I’ve realized when...when you love someone, you should tell them. Because you’re right. It’s not in the having, it’s in being. It’s in saying it. So many people die with regrets. ‘I should have told them...I should have made a move.’ It’s stupid, the way humans dance around, when our lives are so damn short. People...me, we should say what we need to say...be with the ones we love, because we never...never know when our time here ends. So I’m saying it. I love you, too.”

He wasn’t expecting anything out of it, but even still, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed when he opened his eyes to see he was still alone. The wind blew hard enough that he should’ve been shivering, even a little- he tended to run colder as he aged, much to his annoyance- but he felt strangely calm, strangely warm, held together maybe by the memories that played in his head. Cas smiling over at him from the neighboring bench. Cas staring happily out the window of the passenger side of Baby while Dean looked over at him, wondering what might happen if he just reached over and took his hand. Dean walking by Jack’s room to hear Cas inside reading him books of poetry, Walt Whitman and Robert Frost, and more recently Dean’s favorite novel,  _ Slaughterhouse Five _ . He’d stood outside of that room so many times, listened to the quiet drone of Cas’s voice as he read, the inquisitive line of Jack’s questioning. He’d imagined pushing the door open and going inside, sitting himself down on the foot of the bed and listening to Cas right along with Jack. 

Dean got back in the car, turning the key in the ignition, and the Impala roared to life. Another few beats he sat and stared out the windshield, seeing flashbacks to the night he’d picked Cas up from Nora’s house after his failed date- and attempted murder- and driven him out on the ridge about ten miles past the bunker. They’d spent that night much the same as this one, laying on the hood of the Impala, Cas talking about his older brothers designing the constellations, Gabriel nudging stars out of place here and there just to annoy the other angels. They’d shared a 12-pack that night, hours of just talking, until the sun came up. Cas as a human was a cheap drunk, reduced to a flirty, giggly, adorable mess with as little as three beers. Dean had enough to make him bold, and at one point he’d awkwardly reached for Cas’s hand...but quickly backtracked on his intentions when Cas gave him an inquisitive look. If only he’d known then what Cas was probably thinking in those moments, and what they might’ve led to had Dean had the guts to stand by his drunken attempt at flirting.

The ride home was quiet...Dean couldn’t even bring himself to turn on the music this time, instead reveling in the quiet, only the sound of the engine against the asphalt. He parked Baby in the bunker’s garage and let himself into the main living space, not bothering to turn on any lights as he did. There was only silence; Sam must’ve taken Miracle with him to Eileen’s for the night. Both a positive and a negative; Miracle was more Sam’s baby, after all...but it had admittedly been nice for him to have her on nights he struggled to sleep, or woke with nightmares. It was usually Cas to come to his bedside during the particularly traumatizing nightmares, and as was Cas’s M.O., he never mentioned it again in the light of day. If he came into Dean’s room in the middle of the night and sat on the edge of his bed, or laid a hand on his shoulder, stroked his hair, maybe even once laid by his side...he never reminded Dean of it. And Dean never brought it up, either.

The sound of his boots echoed in the empty halls, and Dean sighed as he turned into his bedroom, pushing the door closed behind him and leaning back against it with a sigh. In his next breath he felt all the air briefly leave the room, heard a familiar  _ whoosh _ , and then, in the dark:

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean’s hand flew to the wall, scrambling for the light switch. Eyes wide, he searched frantically until his fingers fumbled over the switch, and he flipped it on, blinking against the sudden light. 

Cas.

_ Cas. _

“Cas?” Dean repeats the mantra, this time aloud, breathless. His voice quivered when he spoke again. “Is...that really you?”

Cas smiled but didn’t move, his eyes drifting downward, his arms by his sides. His body language was all wrong, and he felt so far away Dean was actually uncomfortable. “Yes, it’s me.”

Dean felt himself getting hot; anger rose up from where he’d buried it deep for months, anger at himself for not being able to save Cas, for not telling Cas how he felt, for Cas not giving him the chance before...he-

“You were  _ alive _ , and you let me-” Dean cut himself off, clenching his jaw. “How long?” 

“Dean-”

“ _ How long?”  _ Dean took a step forward, and Cas’s brow furrowed in  _ that way _ that could almost break Dean if he let it. “How long have you been back, just up there watchin’ us be fuckin’ miserable? Huh? You get a kick out of watchin’ me losing my mind over you? After you dump that on me and don’t even give me a fuckin’ chance to speak!”

Cas won’t meet his eyes again, looking down at the floor. “I...didn’t want to come back if that meant making you uncomfortable.”

“Making me-” Dean set his jaw again, glaring at him. “You sat up there for months watchin’ me struggle with…” he gritted his teeth, taking another step, “ _ losing you,  _ all because you were afraid I would be uncomfortable? You’d rather let me think you’re fuckin’ dead than face me again?”

“Dean, please,” Cas swallowed, his voice breaking. It made Dean pause just a few steps away. “I understand you’re angry. You have every right to be, but…”

Dean waited, his heart hammering, emotions fritzing out with every second that passed. Cas was  _ here _ , in his bedroom,  _ alive _ and here they were, in a damn fight. He was so angry and happy and confused and-fuck, but it was so good to see Cas.

“But what?” Dean barked then berated himself when Cas winced.

“Dean, I never thought I’d...come back,” Castiel spoke slowly, carefully, watching Dean with wary eyes. “Jack explained what happened and it’s...I never imagined we’d get here. Never thought we’d get such an ending.”

Dean felt some of the tension leave his body and he nodded. “Yeah...yeah, me either.”

“And then suddenly I was back,” Cas huffed a humorous laugh, shaking his head. “I was prepared to spend eternity in the Empty. I was...resigned to that fate. But Jack brought me back. Not just as I was before, but as I used to be. My power, my wings, it’s all there. And I found myself wondering…”

“What the hell do you do now,” Dean mumbled, sighing deeply.

“Yes,” Cas nodded, mirroring Dean’s sigh. “That and...wondering about you. Confessing my f-feelings, knowing it’d bring the Empty, I sort of thought…” He looked away and Dean swore the angel looked  _ embarrassed _ . “Well, I thought I wouldn’t ever have to deal with the consequences.”

Dean blinked, anger flaring up again. “Excuse me?”

“Dean, I never thought you’d reciprocate,” Castiel said, exasperated. “I never told you before because I thought you’d hate me for it. Force me to...to leave again.”

Dean grimaced, remembering all too well when he’d kicked Cas out of the bunker when he had been at his most vulnerable. Helpless and human, barely scraping by, and Dean had put him back on the street.

“I couldn’t bear that,” Cas shook his head. “So I kept it to myself for years. I was...happy to be able to save you one last time, even if my confession left you angry or disgusted. So yes, when I came back I wasn’t sure where I stood with you. I wasn’t brave enough to face the hate I was so afraid of seeing in your eyes.”

The rigidity of Dean’s body broke then, and he felt tears prick behind his eyes, ones he’d refuse to let fall. “But you got your mojo back now.”

“Yes.”

“So if that’s the case, why didn’t you just read my mind?”

Cas frowned and tilted his head. “Well, that would’ve been rude, Dean.”

Dean rolled his eyes, closing them as he let out a small groan. “Okay, fine, but I know you heard my prayer.  _ Prayers _ . I know you did.”

When he opened his eyes again Cas was finally looking at him,  _ really  _ looking at him, but his expression didn’t immediately give anything away. Dean’s breath hitched in his throat and his heart hammered in his chest, and he vaguely wondered if Cas could hear it, if he was intentionally drawing out the inevitable as some form of harrowing torture. Finally, Cas nodded.

“I did.” 

Dean swallowed. “Then you heard...what I said.”

Cas finally gave him a small, insecure smile. “I did.”

Dean let out a relieved laugh, the stress leaving his chest in a huff. Tears blurred his eyes before he could stop them but he didn’t care; he closed the distance between them and cupped Cas’s face with both hands, then pressed their lips together before he could give himself another second to potentially talk himself out of it. 

After that, it was all the pressure of a twelve year dam breaking down between both of them. Cas clutched two fistfuls of Dean’s shirt as Dean deepened their kiss, letting himself be pushed backward into the brick wall, their teeth clacking briefly at the impact. Dean’s hands fell from Cas’s face to his waist, his thumbs finding the sharp divots he knew would be there due to all the mental photographs he’d filed away, some of the little moments in between killing their next monster or fighting their next big bad that he’d convinced himself he didn’t have the time for. Couldn’t afford to have the time for, because there was always something else to kill, and there were always high stakes, and if it didn’t hurt enough imagining losing Cas as a brother in arms, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing him as a lover.

“You goddamn, fucking idiot,” Dean managed between kissing along his jaw and collarbone as he pushed that stupid trench coat off his shoulders. Cas’s grip tightened and he finally responded, pulling Dean close to roll his hips once against his front as Dean’s lips found his pulse point. 

“I love you,” Dean murmured against his skin, uncaring how it sounded, how vulnerable he looked. “I love you, I love you…”

A split second and a dizzying flurry of spinning room later, Cas had Dean pressed against the wall instead- and it was only then that it really hit Dean that Cas was only humoring him before by allowing himself to be the one pinned. But Dean also knew Cas, and he knew that ultimately, Cas would let him be the one to call the shots...and there was just something about little old him having the ability to take Cas apart, make the angel Chuck himself could never control defy everything for him, for this...something intoxicating about knowing Cas would do whatever Dean wanted or needed.

Cas was also much more tentative when it came to kissing. And if there was one thing Dean Winchester was sure of, the one thing he felt confident enough in to consider it gold standard, it was making out. He was a damn pro, and proud of it. Cas wasn’t a bad kisser, per se, but he needed a little extra coaching to find a rhythm compatible to Dean’s. Soon Dean once again found himself in control of the angel in every way, his hands frantically pulling apart buttons on Cas’s dress shirt, his lips only detaching themselves from his skin long enough to remove clothing. He leaned back heavily against the wall, his knee between Cas’s legs, and he let his hands explore his torso as he sucked at the hollow at the base of Cas’s neck. Cas raised his head to give him access, his eyes closing and mouth falling open, the sounds Dean pulled from his lips absolutely sinful. 

His cock was so hard against Dean’s thigh that even though he wore dark slacks, Dean would bet he was leaking too. He couldn’t help but smirk at the implication of the soft hitches in Cas’s breath, coming closer and closer together, and he’d barely even touched him. But then, god... Dean was hard as a fucking rock and throbbing to the point of discomfort, and both of them still had on way too many layers.

“C’mere,” Dean growled lowly, jerking Cas’s belt free from its loops and roughly forcing the slacks open so he could slide his hand inside. He let out a heavy breath as his palm connected with the curve of Cas’s cock and it twitched against his hand, and Cas sucked in a breath and let out a soft moan.

Without moving his hand- why the hell would he do something crazy like that?- Dean used his free one to help Cas with his own jeans, getting them open enough for Cas to slip his hand inside and cup Dean’s cock. Dean shimmied them down his thighs and pulled Cas close, pulling him into another open-mouthed kiss as their cocks brushed against one another for the first time.

“ _ Dean _ ,” Cas choked out, and in the frenzy of the two of them needing to touch each other Dean barely got to appreciate how fucking  _ hot  _ Cas was like this, flustered and turned on and vulnerable in a way he’d never seen him before.

“I’ve got you,” Dean managed, just before pulling Cas back into a kiss as he clumsily attempted to walk them back to the bed. The backs of Cas’s knees hit the mattress and he sat, Dean immediately straddling his lap as he kissed him. 

Once they were safely settled onto the mattress Dean pushed Cas back down onto the bed, reaching between them to hold both of their cocks in his hand, slicking their way with leaking precum. Cas sucked in a breath at the first pass of Dean’s hand over their cocks, squeezing his eyes shut, head thrown back...so Dean took the opportunity to latch on to his neck again, teeth scraping, sucking, licking marks into his skin.

Cas’s hands were everywhere- touching Dean’s shoulders, his arms, down his torso and up into his hair- and it was all Dean could do to make himself keep touching them, his hand slowing with distractions each time one of Cas’s sounds lit a new fire somewhere in him. Seeing Cas writhe beneath him, feeling the warmth of his body so close, the smoothness of his cock, the taste of his tongue...

Heaven. Heaven on earth. All for Dean.

And it was too good to be true. He didn’t get nice shit like this.

“Dean,” Cas whined softly, tightening a hand in his hair. Dean met his eyes and the hand slid down to cup his jaw, and they stared breathlessly at one another for a beat. Then, softly: “ _ I love you.” _

Dean swallowed hard and surged up to capture Cas’s lips one final time, stroking both of them faster, that wet sound, the smacking of their lips, and breathless moans loud in Dean’s ears. Cas called his name desperately, once more, as he came in Dean’s fist with a shudder, both hands now twisted menacingly into the sheets at his sides instead of dangerously into Dean’s skin. Cas’s orgasm toppled Dean easily over the edge; some combination of twelve years of unresolved sexual tension and the last several years of being too much of a goddamn simp for Cas to even manage to get laid.

Dean collapsed on top of him, both of them panting hard; Dean into the crook of Cas’s neck, and Cas staring up at the ceiling. Dean finally rolled off with a disgusted sound and sat up to pull off his shirt, carefully avoiding getting anything in his hair. He wiped as much of the mess as he could off his stomach with it, then offered it to Cas, who did the same. He awkwardly held the balled up shirt after, his nose wrinkled, an eyebrow raised.

“Toss it,” Dean said, flapping a hand toward the general direction of his hamper. “I’ll deal with the laundry later.”

Dean laid on his back, one hand over his chest as his breathing slowed, staring up at the ceiling. He could feel Cas beside him, staring at him, and he smiled.

“What?” He looked over; sure enough, Cas’s big blue eyes were trained on him. 

“You really mean it,” Cas said in quiet disbelief. “All this time, after everything that’s happened-”

“I really mean it,” Dean interrupted him, his eyes flitting back and forth between those eyes and kiss-reddened lips. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. I should have.”

“Me too.”

Dean clicked his tongue and shook his head. “All this time-”

“Don’t think about it,” Cas said, freezing Dean in the midst of the cyclic montage of missed opportunities and lost time between them. “We have now, and from now on, and that’s enough.”

A slow smile spread across Dean’s face, and he reached over, awkwardly pulling Cas in with an arm around his neck. He kissed the top of his head and ruffled his hair. Cas’s answering smile as he settled comfortably into the nook of Dean’s arm was worth everything Dean had always waited for, through every battle he’d fought, every death, all the pain. It felt like a resurrection; the personified rebirth of Dean’s hope.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still unbeta'd but this time because I'm lazy
> 
> more to come 
> 
> love yall so much

Dean lost track of time. Between bouts of fucking and being fucked into oblivion with his angel, then subsequently sleeping it off in Castiel’s arms, it was very possible that a few days had passed. Sam and Eileen kept clear from his room, undoubtedly after hearing all the noise. Dean was a noisy fuck and did nothing to hold himself back. 

“Awake?” Cas’s grumble was beside Dean’s ear, hot breath causing a shiver. 

“Mmf,” Dean mumbled into Cas’s chest, snuggling ever deeper. 

“You should probably eat.”

“Imma...eatyu,” Dean slurred, a giggle escaping.

“Charming,” Cas said dryly. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not a viable option.”

“I really don’t like big words during pillow talk.”

Dean could feel Castiel’s frown. “Viable is not a big word, Dean. It’s only six letters. And it’s been quite a while since you’ve eaten-”

Dean opened his mouth.

“ _Food_ ,” Cas sighed. “Need I remind you that your species requires sustenance.” 

Dean finally popped his head out of Cas’s chest and glared up at the man. “If I eat something, will you stop grumbling at me?”

Cas seemed to consider this seriously. “Yes.”

Dean sighed and sat up, running his hand through his hair as he yawned. “How long was I out this time?”

“A while,” Cas murmured, watching Dean stretch with an intensity that normally would have him blushing. However, after everything they’d done in the last few hours, Dean was past blushing over something so vanilla.

“Mm, guess you haven’t kicked the habit of watching me sleep,” Dean snorted.

“I find it fascinating and...disconcerting,” Cas tilted his head. “When I was human, it took exhaustion for me to finally sleep. I was terrified of it, but after a while I found it very...well…”

“Restful?” Dean smirked.

Cas chuckled. “Yes. Restful. Sometimes I miss it.”

Dean looked back over his shoulder at Cas, his head propped up with one arm on the pillow. “Sleep’s kinda a weird thing to miss about being human. More of an annoyance than anything.”

“Maybe it’s just the peace I miss. The simplicity.” Cas’s eyes followed him again as he reached down to the foot of the bed for his shirt. “When I was human, sleep was where I...where I didn’t have to think. About...anything.”

Dean paused with his shirt in his hands, but Cas wasn’t looking at him. 

“I’m sorry.”

Cas’s brows were furrowed again when he did look back up. “Don’t be. It was part of the human experience. I’m glad I witnessed it.”

“Yeah, well, bein’ human ain’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Dean murmured. “Just one bad thing after another.”

“Being human is what made me appreciate my true feelings for you,” Cas said, and whatever Dean was going to say, it was long forgotten now. “I felt before, but I didn’t...I never truly understood, I don’t think, until that day I left the bunker. And in the weeks following, where I learned that the most kindness often comes from those with the least to give, and that life is unfair, that love can hurt very deeply but it can also make you feel a...contentment, a peace with yourself that you never have before.” He paused, chewing his lip. “Dean, when I tell you I...being an angel, as you know...we weren’t programmed to feel the way you humans do. Truth be told, the fact that I do at all should indicate a flaw, not a strength. But after becoming human, after getting a taste of what it is to feel sadness, hunger, annoyance, nervousness, desire…” his eyes flicked to Dean’s, and Dean felt himself blush. He looked down.

Christ.

“But most of all, to feel happiness. To have been able to spend time with you and Sam, on your level, knowing that you were doing so because you wanted to and not because I was useful...for the first time, I knew our friendship was genuine. I knew that I was more than just a weapon.”

“You’ve never just been a weapon, Cas.”

Cas smiled softly at the ceiling. “I know that now. But I’m afraid my self-esteem wasn’t quite as well then as it is now.”

“You stupid son of a bitch,” Dean said with a laugh. “Six years. That was _six years_ ago, and I can’t believe I was sitting there thirsting over you in a goddamn blue vest because you were about to go on a goddamn date with _Nora_ and for some reason, as I keep being lovingly reminded, I _only want what I can’t have!”_

“So have me.”

Dean snorted, looking down at himself in his half-dressed state, then over at Cas in his. “Well, we’re already halfway there, cowboy.”

Cas closed his eyes but the eyeroll was so pronounced Dean could practically feel it anyway. “Be serious, Dean. I need you to do something for me.”

Dean’s smile faded and he sat up straight, squaring his shoulders. Cas rolled to his side, something resembling a smile on his face, calm and assured, his eyes bright. He reached over, taking Dean’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

“I want to stay here, with you,” he said, licking his lips quickly. “I want...I want you to make me human.”

Dean looked down at their joined hands then back up at Cas, his eyes widening in shock. “You mean…?”

Cas nodded once, eyes never straying from Dean’s. “Yes. I want you to cut out my Grace.”

Dean’s mouth dropped open then snapped shut when he realized it. He shook his head and glanced around the room, as if the answer to his confusion would come busting out of the walls. “Cas...that’s, I mean, are you sure? You just got it all back. You’re a powerhouse again.”

“I don’t care about that,” Cas shrugged. “It’s true, for a time I missed my former strength and abilities. My wings...but all of it pales in comparison to being with you, Dean.”

Dean swallowed and looked away. “Cas, you don’t have to change yourself to be with me. Angel, human, I don’t care-”

“I know, Dean,” Cas said softly, kissing Dean’s knuckles. “It’s not about that. While my time as a human was...challenging, I’ve also realized it was when I felt myself. Being an angel means I’m always connected to Heaven, to God, to the grand plans and the other angels. Being human means I can leave that all behind and just be connected to you, to Sam, and a life here with you.”

“But you can…” Dean looked down at the comforter draped over his waist, their joined hands in the periphery of his vision, “I mean, Serafina kept Adam alive for...hundreds of thousands of years.”

“Yes. Because they were waiting for Jack. Because they were waiting to end God.” Cas squeezed his hand again, silent until Dean looked back up at him. “I could, theoretically, keep you alive, if it’s what you’d prefer. I could keep you young, we could continue to hunt. But is that what you want?”

Dean chewed his lip, searching Cas’s eyes. “No, man. I’m tired. I wanna...I wanna hunt sometimes, sure, but...I also want to _retire_.” He huffed a laugh. “I want...I want to have a life. Just a normal one, normal as I can get, with my family. You, Sammy, Eileen, Jody and Donna and the girls...that’s it. Can’t imagine I’d have much use for immortality.”

Cas quirked a smile. “It does become a bit repetitive. Until you find something that makes it all worth it.”

“Already got you,” Dean said, his own eyes widening a bit at the realization. “You’d really do this?”

“I really _want_ to do this. This, with you, it’s my peace. And when I’m human I can experience it all again, some of it for the first time, with you. I’ve already been here for so many lifetimes, and I’ve experienced the world over that time in such a one-dimensional way, only barely scratching the surface of what it meant to be human or what it meant to _feel._ Now that I do, now that I’ve had a taste of mortality and what it means to live each day with the knowledge that one day, I won’t be here anymore...it does make you appreciate everything a bit more, doesn’t it? Telling you how I felt, that was my true happiness. I will only ever truly be at peace if I can stay with you. And I can only truly stay with you if I’m human.” Cas sat up fully now, propping himself up against the headboard, dropping Dean’s hand in favor of pulling him to his side. 

“I’ll have to...find a spell,” Dean said slowly, his voice cracking. He licked his lips and swallowed, trying to think of some reason why he could tell Cas it was a bad idea- of course it sounded good, for his own selfish reasons, but Cas couldn’t possibly really want to be human over an angel...and Dean couldn’t have that kind of guilt on his conscience. “Sam, maybe Rowena left him something…”

“This _is_ what I want, Dean,” Cas said firmly against his ear.

“Thought you didn’t read my mind,” Dean grunted.

“Sometimes your thoughts are loud,” Cas said, “and sometimes they’re just...quite intense.”

“Okay,” Dean conceded. “We’ll look into it.”

Cas sighed, but kissed softly behind Dean’s ear. “Good.”

Dean groaned as he leaned over to check the time on his clock, which at some point had been rattled off the nightstand into the floor beside the bed. 6:45 a.m. - breakfast time, as far as he was concerned. And he’d be knocking out two birds with one stone anyway- three, really- by making Cas happy, simultaneously delaying discussion of his request, and stuffing his face with grease and fat.

“C’mon. Breakfast,” Dean grumbled, pulling Cas out of bed with him and throwing on clothes. Cas followed suit, his eyes almost constantly glued to Dean, and was close on his heels all the way down the hall.

The kitchen was empty as expected, so Dean took to pulling the staples out of the fridge and cabinets, tossing boxes on the counter, sliding a carton of eggs and a gallon of milk onto the island. He was vaguely grateful for the foresight to throw on his dead man’s robe since the stone floors and walls kept the bunker so cold, especially this time of year. Cas didn’t seem to have the same worry, only managing to slip on his plain white boxers and one of Dean’s t-shirts he’d thrown on the floor earlier that week. It looked way better on him than it had any right to, but he couldn’t think about _that,_ not when his libido was once again threatening to keep him from desperately needed nourishment.

“Sit, Cas. Jesus, you’re makin’ me nervous, just standin’ around like that.” Dean snorted and shook his head. “What, havin’ trouble stayin’ away?”

“Actually...yes,” Cas said with a frown, rubbing absently at his chest. “Of course I was always drawn to you before so this isn’t entirely new, but...it’s never been quite so unavoidable before.”

Dean frowned too. “So...what? You sayin’ we’re bound to each other or some shit?”

“No, of course not,” Cas said. “That would imply ownership of one another, which is neither healthy or accurate. I think, simply, it’s the parts deep in ourselves that recognize each other; your soul, my grace. They were one once, when I pulled you out of the pit. They had to be. I rebuilt you, my grace has run through the very same veins through which your blood pumps. It helped stitch you back together. But this, now...it’s different.”

“Good different?” Dean asked as he rummaged for a pan and spatula. 

“Yes, very good,” Cas murmured thoughtfully as he took a seat at the table, content to watch Dean flutter around the kitchen. “Though I suppose the feeling will disappear once you’ve removed my grace.”

“Oh,” Dean turned the stove up and cracked a few eggs before sprinkling a bit of salt and pepper over the yolk. “Why is it all different now?”

“I can only guess it had something to do with our new...expression of our bond.”

Dean snorted and poked at the sizzling egg, adding a dash of milk. “Sex made your grace all clingy?”

Castiel smiled slightly and shook his head. “It is not just the sex. I think it’s also the emotions involved. I’ve loved you for years, but kept myself...my feelings distant. Locked away, in fear of losing you should you find out. I suppose, in a way, since you’ve reciprocated those feelings, perhaps the bond has opened up and grown more intense.”

Dean hummed quietly as he added some bacon to the pan. For a few minutes the only sounds were that of the sizzle and pop of food cooking. “Never really thought of that before,” he said in a soft voice, sliding the eggs and bacon onto a plate.

Cas tilted his head. “Thought of what?”

“You...rebuilding me,” Dean ran a finger along the edge of the plate, unable to meet Cas’s gaze. “Obviously I knew bodies don’t stay all fresh and new after 4 months in a grave, but…” he swallowed and looked up, biting his lip. “I never thought about the logistics of it.”

Cas watched Dean for a moment before he got up, silently grabbing a fork and handing it to Dean. “I see. Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“No!” Dean grasped the fork tightly and took a breath, dialing back his volume. “No, no, nothing like that. It’s just kinda mind-blowing.”

“Mmm,” Cas nodded in understanding. “Healing a wound is a simple matter, requiring such an insignificant amount of grace I hardly feel it. Rebuilding a human body, on the other hand, is quite intensive. Especially when said body is the vessel of an archangel. Your cells to the human eye look like any other. To an angel, you may as well be a different species.”

“Can’t imagine being foreign to a thing like you,” Dean muttered, and Cas smiled. 

“As you _can_ imagine, we’re not particularly fond of mysteries. You seem to be the exception.”

“For you, maybe.”

“Certainly. Although others were intrigued as well. Perhaps not in entirely the same way.” Cas finally grabbed Dean’s plate and moved them to the table, placing it down in front of Dean before sitting across from him. “Eat. Please.”

Dean grumbled as he shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth and chewed obnoxiously, and Cas looked at him just as he imagined he might- with the face of a long-suffering friend asking himself exactly how and why he fell in love with the man in front of him. In the end, Cas said nothing, and somehow the blatant disregard for Dean’s infantile behavior was more humiliating than the behavior itself. 

“So,” Dean started through a mouthful of food, “did you do all of it? Like, to what extent are we talkin’ here?”

“Are you turning this into something inappropriate?”

Dean shrugged. “Not exactly.”

Cas eyed him for a moment longer before answering. “I rebuilt your body, completely. I put your soul back in place. Now your essence, what makes you _you_ , the part of you that everyone sees...that’s already there. I can’t replicate any of that. I rebuilt you, but I didn’t- couldn’t- and more importantly, wouldn’t, have changed one thing.”

Dean looked down, his ears hot. He bit into a piece of bacon. “Yeah, well. I might’ve changed a couple.”

“Good thing it wasn’t up to you.”

Dean rolled his eyes, finally looking back up to find Cas still just _watching_ him...and even if he gave the guy a hard time, he had to admit he’d missed it. “So then, logically, I have you to blame for my bad back?”

Cas glared at him. “Dean-”

“Or- ooh! My trick knee, huh? What’s that about? My clicking elbow? The jaw thing! Oh man, especially now, that’s gonna be a fuckin’ _problem-”_

Cas actually put his head in his hands and massaged his temples. “The only blame I take is choosing to leave your emboldened effrontery intact when I raised you. Surely its loss wouldn’t have been the worst thing I could have done.”

“Eh, like you said. It’s part of who I am.” Dean shrugged. “‘S why you love me.”

“At times, painfully so.”

Dean grinned, lips shiny from bacon grease. “Still wanna grow old with me?”

Cas grinned back. “Painfully so.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it for this one! Enjoy the true s15 ending. Or rather, one of the many true s15 endings that are so much better than the absolute shit show we witnessed 2 weeks ago.
> 
> We love you all, and keep an eye on us! We still have 2 stories posting and we'll be working on something new soon! :)
> 
> meanwhile, follow me on twitter @sydkn3e for updates

“You sure about this?”

Cas sighed and closed his eyes, as if to summon patience, before opening them again. “Yes, Dean, now stop asking me.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but Cas had a point. He was stalling and they both knew it. But come on, he was about to slice the guy’s neck open and drain the very essence that made him an angel. It wasn’t exactly an everyday activity. 

He licked his lips and glanced back at the spell Sam had found for him. It was nice and simple, the incantation engraved into his brain. Cas thought he was overreacting. After all, it wasn’t like he had to cut very deep. Dean was normally very confident in his skills with a knife, but he also didn’t make a habit of having the love of his life under the blade either. 

Cas was laid out on their bed, calm as ever, watching Dean with soft eyes. Silently imploring Dean, comforting him. Telling him everything would be alright.

“Okay, let’s make you mortal,” Dean said gruffly, grabbing the knife off his desk. 

Cas nodded then stilled himself, watching Dean’s every movement. Dean sat next to him on the bed and pressed the edge of the blade to Cas’s throat, pausing and meeting Cas’s eyes. For a moment, a mere second, a million thoughts and feelings passed between them. Years of memories condensed into one powerful instant. 

“What if you decide you want to be an angel again?” Dean asked, holding the knife steady, his knuckles white.

“Will you one day decide to become immortal?”

Dean smirked, but shook his head. “No.”

“Then there’s no point in the speculation,” Cas said, and he slowly raised a hand, tightening fingers around Dean’s wrist. He pushed a little further, drawing the first sliver of blood, eyes showing no sign of pain. “This is _my_ choice, Dean.”

Dean swallowed, looking down at their hands, the knife pressed to Cas’s throat. He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, all right.”

Cas lowered his hand back to the bed, but his eyes never left Dean; not even when the knife pierced his skin, or when he felt his grace exposed...Dean, on the other hand, met Cas’s eyes at that moment. The brief moment of a crossroads, where he could easily turn back and refuse to let it happen, or move forward knowing _this_ was it, finally, his way to have a real life. He could still stop, be with Cas while he can, die on a hunt somewhere down the line. They may do that anyway, and then what was it all for?

But when it came down to it, moving forward meant trusting his own choices. Trusting _Cas’s_ own choices. Moving forward meant knowing the risks and taking them anyway. 

If they were going to die, they were going to do that on _their_ terms.

And if they were going to live, they’d get to do it together.

Dean pressed the small vial to Cas’s throat and whispered the Enochian spell, holding Cas’s gaze throughout, taking his hand when his eyes widened and he reached out blindly. The amount of time that passed where his grace flowed from the wound to the vial was likely only seconds, but they felt like an eternity...especially once Dean began to consider exactly how painful grace extraction might be, and the pain of forced extraction versus chosen extraction. 

He put the thought out of his mind as the grace waned and he dropped the knife onto the bed and pressed his palm to Cas’s neck, that damn lump forming in his throat again when Cas closed his hand over Dean’s. Dean shook his head slightly and cleared his throat, then muttered the phrase to heal the wound. He pressed his eyes together as the warmth flooded through his hand and wrist from the last bit of Cas’s grace himself, and hot tears finally fell.

“Dean,” Cas croaked, immediately reaching for him. “It’s okay…”

“I know,” Dean grumbled, sniffing and wiping his nose. He capped the vial and held it in his palm, watching the shimmery blue vapor swirl about. He touched a thumb to the glass and it clouded and tumbled against it, responding to the touch. “I’m fine.”

Dean tore his eyes away from the vial, feeling the warmth of the grace seep into his skin, and looked over Cas carefully. “How do you feel? Okay?”

Cas swallowed and seemed to internally assess himself before nodding slowly. “Yes...yes, I believe I’m fine. A bit winded, but otherwise fine.”

“Winded?”

Cas smiled wryly and shrugged. “Removing grace is rather like taking a very hard punch to the gut. Having the air sucked out of your lungs.”

“Sounds like a party,” Dean muttered, frowning down at Cas. 

“I’m fine, Dean,” Cas huffed, reaching up to clasp his hands around Dean’s and squeezing gently. “I promise.”

Dean sighed and bowed his head, nodding reluctantly. “And you’re...human?”

Cas nodded. “Yes, quite. Though…” his eyes crinkled and Dean’s frown deepened.

“What? What’s wrong? Something hurt? I’ll go get Sam-”

“I’m hungry,” Cas said with a small smile, stopping Dean in his panicked tracks. “I think I would like some food.”

Dean blinked then snorted a laugh, his shoulders untensing and muscles unclenching. One of these days his constant worrying over Cas was going to give him a heart attack. “Food I can do,” Dean smiled, relief evident in his eyes. “C’mon.”

After the past couple of weeks of the two of them spending their meals in the kitchen, Dean stuffing his face while Cas watched...for once, he’d watch Cas eat. He’d watch Cas eat because now, he had to. The thought was thrilling and terrifying at once, but the sheer magnitude of Cas’s decision was never lost on him. Cas might not have his angel strength or powers now, but he’d still lay his life on the line for Dean...of that, Dean was sure. Problem was, that exact thing was the whole reason he never let himself have this to begin with. 

He refused to watch another person he loved die. Not when he finally got something real, for the first time that he knows. For the first time without Chuck nudging pieces into place. Cas was _his_ , in every way he possibly could be, by his _own choice_. Dean may have to live with the knowledge that loving Cas may be the very thing that breaks him in the end, should he be lost in some horrific or tragic way- all too possible in their line of work. The point, he supposed, was that it was ever there at all to be experienced.

“Alright, so...we got leftover pizza, I can make you breakfast- ooh, waffles, or eggs, bacon…” Dean rifled through the fridge. “Some of Sam’s salad crap in here...I think I’ve got burger stuff…”

“I think just a peanut butter and jelly would be nice,” Cas said softly. Dean glanced back to find him watching from across the island, and even though the grace removal did nothing to change Cas physically, he seemed...smaller. He looked content, though, not sad- not sad the way Dean might be losing that kind of power- and he gave Dean a reassuring smile.

“One PB&J, coming right up,” Dean said cheerfully, and even without looking back he knew Cas was watching him, could feel his eyes tracking every movement. It should’ve been disconcerting, but it was just them. It was just _Cas._ Something about Dean could have Cas staring unblinkingly for hours, and something about Cas’s eyes on him made Dean feel safe. 

Now...if anybody else even _considered_ staring for so long, or standing too close, Dean wouldn’t hesitate to put a stop to it.

But not with Cas. Never with Cas.

Cas made a dejected sound from behind him and Dean whipped around a little faster than necessary, the jar of jelly nearly slipping from his grasp as he did. Cas just stared back at him with wide eyes and tilted his head.

“Dean?”

“Sorry, just…” Dean shook his head and sat the sandwich fixings down on the island. “I was just afraid...nevermind.”

Cas gave him a knowing smile. “I promise I’m fine, Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He looked up, pressing his tongue to the back of his teeth, letting out a small, relieved breath. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. I understand your fear.”

Dean swallowed and cleared his throat, pulling a couple of pieces of bread from the loaf. Cas shifted on his stool and frowned.

“This chair is awfully uncomfortable.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, well...get used to it, buddy. 95% of being human is being pissed off and uncomfortable.”

“And the other 5%?”

“Guess that’s up to you.” Dean smirked up at him, his eyes meeting Cas’s for a little longer than explicitly necessary. He felt his cheeks redden and he dropped his gaze, inwardly cursing himself and his stupid boyish nervousness. Christ, Cas was his _best friend_ of 12 years, and he had Dean feeling like a 15-year-old virgin again.

Cas sighed, cupping his chin in a hand, elbow propped on the stainless counter. “Now that...that I’ll miss.”

“What?” Dean asked gruffly, smothering a piece of bread with smooth peanut butter.

“Your thoughts,” Cas said sadly, his bright blue eyes downturned in the corners. “I truly didn’t dip into them often, for your privacy...but the ones I was able to experience with you, they were quite lovely. It was...seeing a part of you that the rest of the world never sees. That they probably never _will_ see. The Dean without walls, boundaries. _My_ Dean.”

Dean’s blush deepened and he quickly turned away, ignoring Cas’s soft chuckle. He never understood how Cas could just _say_ whatever he was thinking. Dean had spent his whole life keeping his mouth shut and his mind too drunk to think about anything too serious. Meanwhile, it seemed whatever popped into Cas’s head came right out, not realizing that most people just didn’t do that sort of thing.

Though, with his confessional prayer to Cas, Dean had come to respect Cas’s disregard for social norms. After all, life was way too unpredictable, especially that of a hunter. After everything Dean had been through, not telling Cas something as important as the fact that he loved him seemed...well, stupid. And after losing Cas, thinking that all of that would have gone unsaid, that someone he loved would never know how important he was...Dean had wanted nothing more than to travel back in time and slap his past self into some sense.

“What _are_ you thinking?”

Cas’s voice pulled Dean back to the present. He smiled as he started spreading the jelly. “Miss is that much, huh?”

He heard Cas shift in his chair and sigh softly. “It appears so, yes. I find it quiet without the hum of your mind in the background.”

“I was thinking how embarrassing and amazing it is when you say stuff like that,” Dean murmured, slapping the two pieces of bread together and placing it on a plate. He sat the plate down in front of Cas and took a seat across from him. 

“Oh. Should I stop?” Cas asked.

“No,” Dean rapped his knuckles on the table, smiling when Cas took a slow bite of his sandwich, clearly savoring the taste. “More people should talk like that. Tell our loved ones how much they mean to us, every day.”

“I’ve always found it strange you didn’t,” Cas said after swallowing, struggling a little through the peanut butter- that’s when Dean remembered the milk, and got up to pour a glass. Cas took it graciously, gulping some of it down.

“Strange _I_ didn’t?” Dean continued, and Cas nodded.

“Well, yes. But not just you. Humans in general. You in particular just happened to be especially stubborn and self-loathing.”

Dean snorted, shaking his head a little in disbelief. “Geez, thanks Cas, tell me how you really feel.”

“But you, Sam, Jack...pretty much every human I ever came across whose mind I drew from, they’re all filled with things they can’t say- or _won’t_ say,” Cas continued without missing a beat, shrugging. “I’ve never understood not telling people the nice things you think about them. I mean...I suppose I _can_ understand...after all, I knew how uncomfortable you would be if I told you that watching you sleep is my favorite activity because it’s the only time I get to see the you unplagued by the next impending apocalypse. It’s...why I never told you a lot of things, really.”

“You mean this is you, filtered?” Dean laughed, ignoring the sleep bit for the sake of his already-heated cheeks.

“Well, not now,” Cas admitted. “But I do understand. I wish it didn’t have to be so complicated for humans.”

“Doesn’t have to be. We make it that way, I guess.”

“Mmm.” Cas’s sandwich was about half gone and he took another bite, closing his eyes as he chewed. 

“So you didn’t tell me because...you thought I’d be uncomfortable.”

Cas shifted in his seat, sitting his sandwich down on its napkin. “Well. Yes. And knowing your...um. Previous sexual partners-”

“Oh, god-”

“I didn’t think...you’d-”

“Cas, for fuck’s sake, I’ve been in love with you for years, you idiot!” Dean’s voice carried in the open kitchen. “And you thought I wouldn’t because you have a dick? Cas tell me that’s not why. Please tell me that’s not why you didn’t say something sooner.” 

Cas’s mouth snapped closed and he swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

“It was never an issue in my mind,” Dean said, his voice softer. “ _I’m_ sorry. I’m sorry I made you think I couldn’t love you just because of...who you are.”

“I never doubted your love for me, Dean,” Cas assured him. “I just...I didn’t know what it meant.”

Cas met his gaze, his eyes wide and so blue, with a warmth Dean had never seen- or perhaps maybe just never noticed before. He was the same Cas, larger than life, contained into this body, this body that was all his now, and yet...he contained multitudes. Millenia of knowledge, history he’d seen made with his own eyes, ancient things he’d touched with his own hands. He’d lived so many years, seen so many people. Watched people live and die. Fall in love and break their hearts. He’d seen them build cathedrals, start wars, worship gods, raise leaders. He’d seen them sick, deranged, lonely, hurt, overjoyed, and gracious. He’d seen many great men do many great things, and yet…

It was always him for Cas. He’d only just found out and somehow, he’d known the entire time.

“Do you doubt mine?” Cas finally asked, slowly, as if afraid of the answer.

Dean’s gaze never wavered, and he shook his head. “No.”

The invisible tether holding Dean to his seat broke then, and he shot to his feet and reached across the table, grabbing Cas by the collar of his tee. Cas made it to his feet in time to brace himself against the table as Dean crushed their lips together, and he moaned around Dean’s tongue. The sweetness of the jelly only made kissing Cas that much more intoxicating, and he blindly shoved everything on the table out of the way as he maneuvered around it in the sloppiest way possible, refusing to break apart. 

Dean’s hands fell to Cas’s hips again and _god he was warm,_ definitely warmer than he usually ran- or rather, used to- and it hit Dean then that in a future full of firsts, there was one fast approaching. Sure, they’d fucked six ways from Sunday when Cas was an angel, but human Cas...that was a whole different bag.

“C- _fuck,_ c’mere, Cas,” he growled, rocking back to lean against the end of the table and pulling Cas with him. Cas stood between his splayed legs, hands on either side of Dean’s neck, kissing him back enthusiastically, broken moans being pulled from his throat...a fuckin’ awesome contrast to the deep timbre of his usual voice. Dean didn’t realize how hard he was holding on until Cas hissed against his lips, one hand falling to cover one of Dean’s, gently prying away the nails biting into his skin. 

With a gentler grip, Dean drew him in close and slid a hand down the front of his boxers. Cas’s cock- bless it- was already hard, the tip already wet...Dean ran a thumb over the head, through slick pre-cum, and Cas _whined_ and bucked his hips gently. He bumped their foreheads together and stopped reciprocating the kiss, panting against Dean’s lips.

Instead of giving in completely, Cas seemed to remember there _was_ something he could do, and he deepened their kiss again as he stroked the outline of Dean’s cock through his boxers.

“...fuck,” Dean bit out as he let his eyes close and head fall back, and Cas took the opportunity to attach himself to the spot at the base of his neck and work his way up, sucking and nipping.

Dean responded by getting a hand into Cas’s sex hair and pulling, effectively detaching him from his goddamn weak spot, and he was en route to Cas’s when he happened to notice the massive figure that stepped into the kitchen doorway- both of them equally horrified at what they saw.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Dean!” Sam yelled, turning back in time to cover Eileen’s eyes before she walked into the mess they surely looked. 

“Sammy! I- fuck- I can explain!” Dean jerked his hand out of Cas’s boxers and frantically tried to cover himself with his robe.

“The bunker has _twenty three bedrooms_ ,” Sam emphasized, voice booming. “Couldn’t have gone with one of those? Or the garage? We have a _dungeon_ , for god’s sake, Dean- I _never_ should’ve had to see this.”

“It’s love, Sammy, and it’s a beautiful thing,” Dean said lamely as he tucked his throbbing cock awkwardly up into his waistband. Poor Cas- confused, annoyed, and very obviously and uncaringly aroused- just stood looking grumpily down at his own situation, his face red...from embarrassment, arousal, or anger, Dean wasn’t sure.

“Beautiful or not,” Sam said through clenched teeth, his face just as red. “Eileen and I would appreciate it if you kept your…”

“Expressions of love?” Dean smirked despite himself. No matter how old he got, it would always be fun to watch his baby brother squirm. 

Sam glared. “Yeah, if you could keep those out of the kitchen…”

“Yeah, yeah, we got it,” Dean waved him off, too horny and frustrated to coddle Sam’s sensibilities. 

“Apologies,” Cas murmured, collecting himself enough to remember his manners. 

Eileen grinned, clearly amused from the whole thing. She lifted her hands to sign, ignoring Sam’s eye roll. “Ignore him. He’s just jealous that we aren’t in the honeymoon phase anymore.”

Cas’s eyes crinkled briefly before he shook his head. “No, Dean and I are not married.”

“It’s an expression, Cas,” Dean chuckled as he began cleaning up the mess they’d made. “And anyway, we’re bonded through your grace. I’d say that counts as married.”

“Speaking of which,” Sam raised a brow at Cas. “I’m assuming before you two started...ahem, it looked like you were eating. Does that mean…?

Cas nodded with a small smile. “Yes. We were successful in extracting my grace. I am fully human.”

“What happened to the grace?” Sam asked.

Dean pulled the vial out of his pocket, holding it up for Sam to see. “Right here.”

“I’ve decided to let Dean keep it,” Cas shrugged, uncensored with the essence that made him an all-powerful angel. “Since the moment I pulled him from Hell, it’s belonged to him anyway.”

“Cas…” Dean groaned in embarrassment, glaring at Sam’s smirk.

“How romantic,” Eileen signed, giving Dean a wink.

“Alright, we’re done here,” Dean huffed, throwing what was left of the sandwich into the trash. “You know what, if I had my own house, I’d fuck in the kitchen all I want. And I wouldn’t have to worry about my little brother walkin’ in on me.”

“So get your own house, Dean,” Sam snarked, rolling his eyes.

“You know what? I think I will!” Dean shot back, meeting Cas’s eyes long enough to nod toward the hall. “C’mon, Cas. We got some unfinished business to attend to before we call our realtor.”

Dean smirked himself as he left the kitchen to the sound of Sam’s exaggerated gagging, Cas close behind.

“Got any requests?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder. Cas tilted his head.

“I...there’s... _more_?” he asked incredulously, eyebrows drawn together as he seemed to try to work out the possibilities in his head.

“Well, first of all, _hell_ yes. But that’s not what I’m talkin’ about,” Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “God, you know this is the most I’ve smiled I think in my whole life, these last couple of weeks.”

“Good. The world is better for it.”

“Yeah,” Dean coughed, cleared his throat. “Anyway, I meant requests for the house. Anything you want?”

Cas still looked confused at first, but it morphed into something wide-eyed and hopeful. “A house.”

“ _Yeah,_ man, keep up. What should we be lookin’ for?”

“You want to...get out. And get a house. With me. Now.”

Dean fully laughed now, slinging an arm over Cas’s shoulders and giving his hair a ruffle. “I need my own space, have for awhile now. Sammy has Eileen, but more importantly, I have _you,_ and I’d like to be able to enjoy my remaining days out of here, where I can have some goddamn privacy. Where I can retire and maybe hunt a case here or there for a good time and at the end of the day…” he paused, smiling over at Cas, “you and I get to go back to the same place together. Just the two of us.”

Cas’s smile spread slowly across his face, but soon his entire expression reflected his pure joy. “Our own house.”

“Yeah, you know,” Dean shrugged as they stepped inside their bedroom. “Somewhere kinda out of the way, maybe. Don’t want any nosy neighbors. Little slice of land to call our own.”

“What would we do with land?” Cas plopped down onto the bed, smiling when Dean immediately crawled into his lap. 

“Whatever we wanted,” Dean smiled back. It was amazing how comfortable he was already. He felt as if they’d been a couple for years. Perhaps because they’d been dancing around it for so long that taking the final step was more of a formality at this point. “It’s ours.”

“Hmm…” Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s narrow waist, thumbs finding his hips and pressing gently. “That does sound nice. Somewhere quiet and...peaceful.”

“No monsters, or demons, or Chucks,” Dean sighed and closed his eyes, pressing their foreheads together. “Just me, you, and a very big bed.”

“And kitchen table.”

Dean chuckled. “Hell yeah. A big, sturdy one.”

"Our own home," Cas said softly, still impossibly incredulous. Dean kissed him slowly, innocently, tangling a hand in the back of his hair.

"Just us," he murmured in response, their noses bumping gently as they broke apart; Dean, not giving a damn about personal space because with Cas, he could never feel close enough. "Finally free."


End file.
